I later learned he lived by himself and not with his parents, which maybe explained why he seemed older. From what I’ve heard, he’s never told anyone what happened to his parents, but I’ve always wondered if maybe he lost them like I did mine. But he never opens up to anyone, so no one knows much about him. Well, maybe the Bad Boy Rebels do, but it’s not like I have the guts to talk to them.
Yeah, I know, it’s kind of a silly nickname for a group of six hot guys and honestly, no one really uses the name anymore. But the name does fit them, since they get into trouble all the time. They’re also popular, but never get close to anyone outside of their circle, being friendly and throw parties, but never fully letting outsiders in. A lot of people worship them and a lot of girls drool over them. I’ve been one of those girls, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever consider dating any of them—they’re way too bad boy for me.
A nail-biting amount of time passes where Benton says nothing. I try not to squirm underneath his menacing gaze, but restlessness rises inside me and makes it tricky to stand still.
Finally Taylor says, “So, are you going to let us in or what?”
He cocks a brow at her. “I don’t remember you being on the invite list.”
Taylor puts her hands on her hips. “Don’t be a dick, Benton. You know you invited me.”
His lips quirk in mild amusement. “Fine, maybe I did. It’s hard to say for sure, though. All you cheerleaders look the same.”
Taylor glares at him. “You’re such an asshole.”
He shrugs, the movement slow and lazy, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “And yet you still came to my party. Guess you must like assholes.”
Taylor throws a feisty smirk at him. “Nope. Only the free drinks the asshole gives away at his parties.”
His lips pull into a smirk, but then his gaze glides to me and his amusement dissipates. “Okay, I know I definitely didn’t invite you.”
“Leave her alone,” Taylor warns. “Zhara’s never been to a party before. And she doesn’t need you making her more nervous.”
I gape at Taylor. Did she seriously just say that? And to Benton of all people? I know a lot of people know I’m not a partier, but that doesn’t mean she needs to declare that this is my first attempt at going to a party.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Taylor asks me, her face contorted in puzzlement. “Everyone knows you don’t party. It’s not a big deal. No one cares.” She offers me a smile. “And besides, tonight you’re changing that.”
Benton stares at me with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. “Not if I don’t let her in.”
Taylor blasts him with a death glare. “Would you knock that crap off and just let us in?” She steps forward like she’s going to push her way in. “I’m ready for a drink.”
Benton slams a hand down on each side of the doorframe, blocking her path.
Taylor nearly rolls her ankle as she grinds to a stop to avoid running into him. “God dammit, Benton.” She stomps her foot. “Why are you being such an asshole?”
“I’m always an asshole,” he says without missing a beat. “And you can come in, but your little friend can’t.” His gaze briefly flicks to me. “I don’t let narcs into my parties.”
My first instinct is to feel hurt, but I find myself more angry than wounded. I know I’m not cool and fun or anything, but I’m not a narc. And he doesn’t know me well enough to call me one.
My anger fumes, but I struggle to battle it down and be sweet, nice, calm, and composed Zhara. “I’m not a narc.”
He scans me from head to toe then gives me a look like he thinks I’m this stupid, naïve girl that doesn’t understand life.
Irritation burns in my chest. Yeah, I don’t do the party scene, but that doesn’t make me naïve and stupid. I’ve probably been through more than most people my age. I’ve lost my parents, watched my older sister, Annabella, get arrested and nearly ruin her life, and I’ve spent most of the last couple of years helping Loki—my older brother who’s been my guardian since my parents died—take care of our brother and sisters—Nik, Jessamine, and Alexis.
“I’m not a narc,” I repeat, the pressure on my chest building and building.
A smug smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You sure as hell look like one.”
The fact that he thinks he has me all figured out just by looking at me makes the pressure in my chest expand. Add that to the stress of being out of my comfort zone and I find myself taking that breath I always try to fight back.
“Just because I don’t dress slutty and go to parties all the time, doesn’t mean I’m a narc,” I snap, my voice wavering. “And you shouldn’t judge people by how they look.”
“I’m not judging you by how you look.” His casual, unbothered attitude makes me grind my teeth. “Whenever good girls like you come to my parties, they can’t handle their shit and end up going home and crying to their mamas, who end up calling the cops, and then we lose our party place.” He points a finger out at the parking lot. “So, do everyone a favor and go home.”
I’m shaking so badly I can barely stand up straight. My first attempt at going to a party and I can’t even make it through the front door.
Epic fail, Zhara. You’ll never be able to change.
Maybe my mom was right. I’m supposed to be a good girl. I shouldn’t be going to parties. I should be at home, watching television, or doing something less bad.
Tears burn at my eyes. I try to blink them back, but once I start crying I have a hard time stopping, and both Taylor and Benton notice. I want to turn around, run home, and lock myself in my room. But when Benton gives me this presuming look, like he expected me to cry all along, my humiliation blazes into fury.
Before I even know what I’m doing, I step forward and get into his face. “Fine, don’t let me in. But just for the record, you never had to worry about me telling my mom or dad. Since they’re dead.”
And just like that, the sweet, nice, never-says-anything-mean-or-bad Zhara disappears.
Out the Window
It feels like minutes go by before anyone says anything.
“Holy shit, Zhara, I can’t believe you said that,” Taylor whispers, her jaw nearly hanging to the floor.
I swallow a trembling breath as I stare down at my feet, ashamed. Me either.
I’m the worst person ever.
I dare a glance at Benton to see his reaction. He looks a little pale, but I get no satisfaction, instead, a sick, disgusted feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. Holy crap. Who the heck am I right now.? A terrible person. That’s who.
“Sorry, I didn’t know,” he mutters, stepping back to let us into his living room.
Going to a party doesn’t seem as appealing anymore, and I almost leave. But Taylor snags hold of my hand and tugs me in with her as she walks inside.
The second I step over the threshold, the excited energy hits me square in the chest, along with the bass of the music. But the moment is lost as people begin to gawk at me. Most of them don’t hang in the same crowd as I do and whispers float through the air, like gossiping butterflies.
“Why is she here?”
“She never goes to parties.”
“Is she lost?”
“Maybe she went into the wrong house or something.”
“She so shouldn’t be here. Benton’s going to flip if he sees her.”
Knots wind in my stomach as my thoughts wander back to what I said to Benton. What kind of a person just talks about their parents’ deaths like that? Especially when I’m doing something my mom would never want me to do.
“Are you okay?” Taylor asks, steering me toward the kitchen.
I nod, lying to her and myself. “Yep, just great.”
She doesn’t quite believe me, but lets the matter go. “So, what do you think?” She stops in the middle of the crowd and let’s go of my hand. “Is it everything you hoped it’d be and more?”
“Um…” I glance at the crammed living roo
m, where people are dancing and grinding against each other, at the people taking shots at the bar area in the kitchen, and at the game of, I think it’s called Beer Pong, being played on the table in the small dining room to my right. Strangely, though, I don’t see any of the Bad Boy Rebels anywhere. “Are there always so many people at these things?”
Amusement dances in her eyes. “If there wasn’t then it wouldn’t be a party.” Her smile abruptly fades as her eyes narrow at something over my shoulder. “What do you want?”
I turn around to see who she’s talking to, but mid turn, I trip over my feet and stumble into a person behind me, my forehead smacking their chin.